Tattoo You

Tattoo You, as I recall, was an album by the Stones. Now it is my younger son's new mantra.

A few months ago, he casually asked how I would feel if he were to get a tattoo.

"What can I do about it?" I said. "It's your body."

Yesterday, my husband and I were watching a movie on a Saturday afternoon, while it snowed another 12" outside. The phone rang and it was the eldest.

"Hey, Mom." his usual greeting.

"Hi honey. What's new?"

"You're going to get a surprise today or tomorrow."

Uh oh.

"Will I like it?" I asked him.

Pause. "I think so," he answered. I didn't press. I'd forgotten about the tattoo.

A couple hours later, I received a pic message from the younger one. It was a photo of his tattoo, freshly cut and still bleeding, wrapped in Saran Wrap around his upper thigh.

"BTB" it read. It stands for B-Town Boys...B-Town an abbreviation of the New Hampshire town we live in.

"Hi, Mom" came the cheerful phone call a moment later. "Did you see my tattoo?"

"Yes, honey. It looks sore. Is it bleeding?"

"Yes. We're all getting one. "

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

"Ha!" my husband said when I related the conversation. "I bet he's the only one who gets one."